Reconciliation
by Phantom-Of-The-Keurig
Summary: Gustave continues to struggle with the memories of that fateful night on the docks so many months ago. Confused and still unsure of his place in this new life, the anxiety building within him threatens to break free at any moment. (Post LND AU where Christine lives, with mixes of Kay and other things)


**A/N**: This is awkward, uhhh hi! It's me, back again with a random one shot. I don't know where this sudden inspiration to write after avoiding it for a year came from but hey, sometimes it be like that. I am so rusty at writing I'd really appreciate any thoughts or critiques you have for me, thanks y'all!

* * *

_Gustave_

The tips of his fingers drummed lazily against the wooden bench as his short legs bounced restlessly. Occasionally his head would turn as his eyes followed the endless stream of carriages and pedestrians that hurried by the shop fronts. Across the street, a boy his age stood on an overturned crate as he shoved a newspaper in the face of every passerby. Most simply shot the boy a dirty look, but some parted with their change and reluctantly took a paper.

To say his mind was elsewhere would be an understatement.

"Are you listening, boy?"

"No," Gustave replied, turning to his small companion.

Miss Fleck chuckled, her hands coming together to fold on her petite lap. "Alright, well, let's move on from English then. _Hmmm_, how about-"

"My English is fine."

"Your English is _improving_, dear," she teased, "it's your pronunciation that's tragic."

At this, he smiled. "Maybe a little."

Miss Fleck playfully rolled her eyes, the back of her hand coming to her head with a dramatic flair. "I'm only trying to save you from making a fool of yourself, prancing about and squawking things like '_erre-kan-sass'._"

The sharp arch of his brow twitched just so. "_Are-kan-sauce_."

"_Arkansas_."

Gustave paused, his eyes narrowing as he mentally played back the movement of her mouth until he finally managed to wrestle out, "_Arkansas_!"

He was rewarded with a proud smile and soft applause from his companion. They laughed, but their celebration was cut short. The bell above the door beside them gave a quick ring as his Mother and Squelch finally emerged from the store, boxes in hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry we took so long! It was such a large order, apparently the poor things have been working day and night for weeks now," his Mother explained in a single breath. "I hope you're not too upset with me, love."

Gustave shook his head. He could never be upset with his sweet Mother, as he adored her more than anything in this world. It was this deep attachment to her that kept the events of _that night_ on the docks so many months ago still fresh in his mind, a persistent and haunting memory that followed him everywhere he went.

Banishing the thought to the back of his mind, for the moment at least, Gustave smiled. "It's alright," he chirped, sliding down from the bench. He helped Miss Fleck down before turning to take the many boxes from his Mother. She beamed at him, and he happily accepted the small kiss she planted on the top of his head. "Can we go home now? Nadir bought me a new kite, but I don't know how to fly it yet."

"Actually dear," she frowned, "I still must get these costumes to the girls, and then I have to meet with some journalist about the new show…. oh, I'm sorry Gustave."

He wouldn't let the disappointment show on his face_. He couldn't_. Instead, he forced the edges of his mouth into a brief smile, his head bowing. Wordlessly, they started to make their way towards the carriage that awaited them down the street. He noticed the frown on his Mother's lips never quite left.

Dr. Gangle waved to them as they neared the carriage. His long legs swung out to the side before he hopped down from his seat, landing right in front of Gustave, a crooked smirk on his face.

"Arkansas," he blurted out, making his Mother giggle.

"Arkansas," Gustave muttered back.

Gangle clutched his heart as he opened the door for them. "Oh, happy happy day!"

Dropping the pile of boxes in Dr. Gangle's arms none too gently, Gustave climbed inside. His Mother followed, pausing to look back at Squelch and Miss Fleck.

"Aren't you joining us?"

Curious, Gustave peered around her shoulder.

Squelch bowed his head. "The little one and I have some other errands to attend to, if it is alright with you madam."

His Mother waved her hand, smiling. "Of course it's alright with me, but how will you get back? Oh-," she stopped to dig through her coin purse, "at the very least let me give you money for the fare."

"Oh no madam, that won't be necessary," Miss Fleck replied. She pursed her lips into a sweet smile, flashing a pointed look at Gangle. "I'm sure our friend here will find it somewhere in his heart to come back for us in a few hours."

Simultaneously, Gustave snorted and Gangle scoffed.

"_Me_? _A heart_? Oh, you poor misguided fool- have you finally gone mad?"

Playfully, his Mother swatted Gangle's thin shoulder. "You wretched man, what are we going to do with you?"

"Forgive me, madam. I just worry for the sanity of our friends; can you imagine having to cart them off to the sanatorium? What a shame that would be." With a wink to Gustave, Gangle gave a flamboyant bow and shut the door.

"That man, I swear," Christine remarked, settling into her seat. "One day that mouth of his will put a ruin to us all."

"I think he's funny," Gustave chimed in.

His Mother hummed in agreement, shooting him a sly smile. The carriage gently lurched forward as the faint sound of Gangle whistling came from above.

* * *

It was a short journey back to Coney Island, although a rather silent one. Gustave periodically glanced away from the window to look at his Mother as she poured over a stack of papers on her lap. He sighed, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. After some time, his eyes fell closed as his thoughts rushed about in a restless state.

"Is something the matter, love?"

With a start, Gustave pulled away from the window. His Mother set the papers aside, opening her arms for him. For a moment he resisted, he was far too grown to be held by his mother like a baby, but the thought passed immediately, and he scrambled into her embrace.

"I'm sorry we can't fly your kite today, Gustave." Her hand rubbed gentle circles on his back. "We've been so busy, it feels like I never have enough time in the day. How long have we been here now, six months?" She paused thoughtfully. "Oh, I guess it's been closer to seven months."

"All my things are back in Paris," he blurted out. A flush began to creep up the side of his neck. He knew it wasn't the time to let the anxieties that plagued his mind to come tumbling out, but his mouth began to move before he could stop it.

"Gustave-"

"All my things are in Paris, and all my friends are in Paris. Even the rest of my family is in Paris, except- they aren't my family. I don't know _who_ my family is anymore, I don't know if I have one!" He yanked himself out of her arms, retreating to the opposite side of the carriage. "Everyone calls little Marcella, she's the beastmaster's daughter, a bastard. And do you know why? I didn't! So I asked her! I asked her '_Marcella, why do they call you the beastmaster's bastard_?' And do you know what she said to me Mother, she said she was a bastard because her father had a wife, but that wife was not her mother, and her mother didn't want a bastard daughter, so she was sent to live with the beastmaster and his real children!"

A few tears began to fall down his Mother's face, his own lip starting to quiver. A small voice inside his head pleaded for him to stop, but his words flew from him of their own accord.

"That makes me a bastard! Other's know it too Mother, a man walked up to me one night in the park and asked if I was '_really that masked ghoul's bastard'_. I hear that voice every night, every single night it's in my head but I don't know what I'm meant to tell it. Because I don't know Mother, _he_ never speaks to me!"

He paused to catch his breath, his chest heaving up and down as sobs rocked through him. His Mother reached for him, but he jerked away, furiously shaking his head.

"Ever since that night, that night on the docks- _he's_ avoided me ever since. We live in his house, but I never see him, and never more than a few seconds. Before that night, before you got hurt, he would talk to me. He showed me the most amazing things, he taught me magic tricks and told me stories. But now he _hates_ me, and I think he believes that night was my fault, and _oh, Mother_-! I think it was too!"

With a final cry he collapsed into himself and wept. Instantly his Mother's arms were pulling him close, her soft voice trying to soothe him. Her voice seemed far away, and it felt as if the walls were far too close, the pressure of her arms too constricting. He suddenly feared he would soon run out of air.

Just then the carriage came to a stop, nearly jolting them to the floor. His lungs grew smaller with each breath, and in a desperate craze for air he tore from his Mother's arms and burst through the door of the carriage.

His legs carried him forward without thinking, he simply ran. Distantly he heard his Mother cry his name, but some unknown force had taken control of him. It made him run and run until he the only thing his little body could do was collapse.

* * *

_Erik_

There was an insidious knot in his chest, and it was only growing tighter. Each word she sobbed out was another tug of the knot, squeezing his chest so tightly he thought he might collapse right then and there. Drawing in a sharp breath through his nose, his hands began to clench and unclench at his side.

"What do you mean he ran," Erik asked. "Where did he run off to?"

Instantly, the blue eyes across from him went wide with anger. He winced, mentally kicking himself for his terrible choice of words.

"What do you mean where did he run off to? Don't you think I would have gone after him if I'd known? _How could you_-"

Erik held his hands up, his eyes darting to the ground between them. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry- I shouldn't have asked that, _I'm sorry_." He sighed and turned to the side as if to pace, but instead he ran one of his hands through his hair in frustration. "I'm trying to-I'm just trying to understand. I'm sorry, please give me a moment."

Keenly aware he was being watched, he chewed on his lip as his hands returned to fidget at his side. A deep sense of guilt began to creep into him. It radiated from the knot in his chest and bubbled up into his throat, morbidly reminding him of the clutch of a noose.

"He's just upset," he eventually said, turning his head to meet Christine's eyes. "I'll go find him, it's my fault you see, but- I can fix this. I can, I will. I'll go get him."

Christine sighed, burying her face in her hands. "Erik-"

"Wait here," he urged, grabbing his coat. "I won't be long, I'll go get him." He paused, his hand frozen on the doorknob. "It won't be like last time, I promise."

Without waiting for a reply, Erik swept out the door and into the fading light.

* * *

_Gustave_

Being outside the bounds of Phantasma, and especially Coney Island itself, should have terrified him. He knew Phantasma almost as well as Erik himself knew the park, and by extension he was at the very least mostly familiar with the venues and shops that existed on Coney Island. While he was sure he couldn't be too far from Coney Island, this rundown area of outside of his normal boundaries was completely foreign.

It occurred to him that whatever dangers he faced lost in the slums was intimidating than what would happen when he eventually returned home. He couldn't bring himself to think about how much he had hurt his Mother with his cruel words, how his frustration and confusion over the many months since arriving had caused him to lash out. He knew she would never raise a hand to him, she probably wouldn't even scold him. It was the hurt and disappointment that would linger in his Mother's eyes that filled him with a great shame, a shame he wasn't ready to face.

Gustave pushed all thoughts from his mind, as they were too painful, and he didn't quite feel strong enough to acknowledge. Instead he studied the seemingly endless shacks that lined the streets. Many were built right on top of each other, while some were crudely pushed together in some sort of attempt to make more room.

He had never seen a place like this before, a place where people with nothing but sadness in their eyes and hardship on their face shambled about. Many were sitting outside their desolate homes, but many more were simply sitting on the sidewalk or the street itself. The sun was due to set any minute, and he realized this area of town didn't have nearly as many streetlights as Coney Island.

A chill ran up his spine. The shadows were growing larger with each passing second. It dawned on him even after the sun had set, he wouldn't be able to find his way back to Coney Island using the brilliant glow of lights that shined from it. The shacks stacked atop of each other towered much higher than him. He'd need to find higher ground and a better vantage point if he wanted to find home.

He kept moving, hoping something useful would stick out to him. He started to wonder if this city of shacks was an entirely different city of its own, a darker, more miserable version of New York.

As the sun finally gave way to night, he spotted it. A sort of abandoned warehouse perhaps, although it mattered little to him what it once was. So long as he could make his way inside and find a way to the roof, he was happy.

The front doors were held shut with rusted chains. Nearly all of the windows of the first floor, however, had been smashed in. Gustave stood on the tips of his toes, yet the top of his head just barely met the bottom ledge of the window. With a huff, he relaxed back down to his flat feet.

There was the sound of broken glass and banging from the house across from him, and the hair on his arm stood up. He looked to either side of the building, desperate for anything to help him climb up. There was an alleyway to his left, and he ran into it without a second thought.

Giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, Gustave creeped deeper into the alley. The floor was littered with mud and various waste, and soon his shoes were caked in filth.

Just ahead sat a forgotten mound of rubbish. Seeing no better option, he trudged closer to it. There were splats of fresh mud and grime surrounding the mound, as if someone had recently come through and caused a sort of disgusting avalanche.

Rolling his sleeves up, Gustave reached toward the pile to begin the daunting task of digging for something useful. A broken chair leg, forgotten scraps of metal, an old shoe- useless, and it all went flying over his shoulder. He stopped to wipe his brow. A ragged doll with a missing button eye and tattered hair sat by his foot, and he bent to pick it up.

As his hand reached the doll, he heard a muffled whine, a low and sad sound that made him jump. For a moment his childish mind thought the doll had come to life, perhaps to extract some sort of twisted revenge on him after being abandoned to rot in an alleyway. He raised his foot to kick the cursed doll away and run, but the whine came again.

His eyes snapped to the source. There was something _moving_ beneath a wooden pallet near the heart of the mound. Whatever it was, it continued to whimper beneath the wood, drawing Gustave closer with its pitiful sounds. He gingerly made his way up the slight slope of the mound, careful to keep his feet from falling through the weaker spots.

He had no fear of whatever waited beneath the wood, as it cries felt more like a plea rather than a warning. The remains of a few broken crates sat atop the pallet, and he shoved them away with a grunt. He worked his fingers under the edge of the wood and pushed. The wooden pallet went tumbling down the side of the mound. Regaining his balance, he peered inside the new opening in the mound.

Grateful brown eyes gazed up at him, and a pair of floppy gray ears lifted in excitement. Gustave nearly fell back in excitement, a giant grin forming on his face.

"_Oh_! Hello, pup!" He leaned closer, bringing his hand down to the dog's face. "What are you doing down there?"

The dog licked his hand, nuzzling its large head against his palm. Somewhere further down, he heard the rhythmic thump of the dog's tail. Following the sound, his eyes narrowed as he found the source of the dog's entrapment. A frayed fishing net pinned beneath a metal barrel was wrapped around the dog's hindlegs. He looked back at the fresh mud and grime that had been splattered about, and then back at the dog.

"You knocked everything down, and now you're stuck, right?"

The dog didn't answer. It kicked its back legs in a pitiful attempt to climb out, but the movement only pulled the net tighter. The dog yelped as the net cut deeper into the raw skin on its legs.

"No, don't do that!" Gustave clambered down the side of the cramped pit. He immediately threw his entire weight against the rusted barrel that held the net in place, but it didn't budge. With his shoulder throbbing, he instead maneuvered around an assemblage of metal beams that sat above the dog's net.

"Don't worry, I'll get you out. Do you trust me?"

The dog merely blinked. Gustave set to work on the knots.

* * *

_Erik_

"Eh? A boy you say? Heh, sorry mister. There's _lossa'_ boys round here. Although, now that you mention it- yeah, yeah I did see a fella like that. Short, kinda pale, needs a haircut if you ask me-"

"I didn't ask you," Erik clipped, his voice cold. "Which way?"

The man scoffed, reaching down to strike a match on the heel of his shoe. "I dunno, thata-way maybe." He placed a cigarette between his cracked lips, casually drawing in a large puff of smoke before blowing it in Erik's face. "Maybe an hour ago."

Fighting the urge to jab the cigarette into highly unpleasant places, Erik yanked his hood back up and prowled away. This wasn't the time to lash out, not when Gustave was missing. Causing a scene in this part of town would likely end with him having to retreat to Phantasma bruised and bloody, followed by another visit from the police commissioner.

His teeth clenched at the thought. He _hated_ that man.

Across the street, a small figure dashed out from an alleyway. Erik froze, narrowing his eyes as the figure swiped something up from the ground and ran back into the darkness. His heart sped up.

Erik bolted. He was at the mouth of the alley in an instant, his eyes searching until they fell upon a small figure at the edge of a junk pile. His chest tightened at the possibility the figure wasn't in fact Gustave, just another child of the street with a similar stature.

"Gustave?"

With a gasp, the figure turned. A pair of wide eyes met his, eyes that were so much like his own but also not. They were warmer, softer, and held none of the coldness that lingered in his own.

"Mr. E!"

Erik wasn't sure who moved first, perhaps it didn't matter, but suddenly he was on his knees and clutching the boy to him. He gasped as he cradled the boy's head. Gustave sniffled, and he pulled away to look the boy over.

"You shouldn't be here." Erik leaned back, letting his arms drop. "This is a dangerous place, Gustave." He noticed a streak of red on the boy's palm, and without thinking he struck his hand out to grip the boy's wrist. "Is this blood? Are you hurt?"

"No, no I'm fine!" Gustave said frantically. His heart twisted, realizing he had frightened the boy. "It's not mine, I swear! It's his."

Gustave turned and pointed a small finger at the rubbish mound. Erik arched his brow, peering around the boy's shoulder. Careful to avoid frightening the boy even more, he held his palms up and calmly stood up.

"Who?"

He watched as Gustave chewed on the corner of his lip, the boy's eyes darting about. Erik wondered if that's what he also looked like while he was in thought.

"There's a dog," Gustave explained. "He's stuck, I think he was looking for food but then everything fell. His leg is stuck in a net, he can't get out. I tried to pull him out, but I wasn't strong enough. And I tried to get his legs out of the net, but it's too tight. It's cutting into his leg! That's why I got the bottle, I thought…well, maybe I could break it, and…and maybe I could use a piece to cut through the net."

Gustave stared at the ground, his hands wringing in front of him. Tilting his head to the side, Erik silently watched the boy as he considered what he should say.

"That's…that was a clever idea, Gustave," he cleared his throat, "to use the glass." The boy looked up at him, his eyes hopeful. "Show me." He nodded toward the mound. Gustave gripped his hands and tugged him along.

"Thank you, thank you Mr. E! He's such a good dog, at least, I _think_ it's a he."

Erik nodded, fascinated by the boy's chatter but unsure of how he was meant to respond. He paused at the edge of the mound as Gustave began to scurry up. Realizing he had stopped, Gustave looked over his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Gustave took a tentative step back to him. "Do you not like dogs?"

"Oh, I'm actually quite fond of dogs," Erik confessed. "They tend to not like _me_, however." With a curious look, the boy cocked his head to the side. Feeling uncomfortable, Erik shifted from foot to foot and gestured to his mask.

"Oh," Gustave gasped, "are they scared of you? Because of your mask?" Erik gave a curt nod, his hands coming to his sides to pick at the material of his cloak. "Well, this one will like you! He's a good boy."

Gustave smiled with such a childish innocence Erik was compelled to give a small one of his own. It was little more than a quick twitch at the corner of his lips, but it seemed to please Gustave either way.

Beckoning him forward, there was a gleam in his eye Erik couldn't quite place as he made his way to the boy's side. His foot nearly fell through a series of weak points, and he was amazed the boy had managed to not get stuck himself.

"The wood is old, you could have fallen through."

"I know…. are you angry with me?"

"No," Erik said honestly. "I'm not angry with you, Gustave."

"Good." Gustave knelt and pointed at a small opening in the mound. "There he is. Hello again, I told you I'd be back. Did you miss me?"

Erik watched as Gustave stretched his arm down. He knelt beside the boy and glanced inside. A thing, shaggy dog gazed back at him. Its expression hardened, its nose twitching as it looked him over.

"It's alright Mr. E, you just have to greet him. I promise he'll behave."

"As you wish." Erik replied. He carefully extended his hand out, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable bite he would be tending to tonight. "Hello, friend." There was a tense pause as the dog smelled him over, but its expression began to soften, and the thump of its tail echoed below. "What have you done to yourself?"

Gustave giggled and went back to comforting the dog while Erik leaned further over the lip of the pit. He saw the fishing net Gustave spoke of, and the barrel that held it in place. The space was barely large enough for him to work around if he had to, but it would be tight. He hummed as he thought over their options.

"Gustave," he finally spoke.

"Yes?"

"If you were able to cut the net free, would you be opposed to climbing down there again?"

"No! I can do it, Mr. E. I'm not scared."

Erik nodded. "I know you're not." He leaned back and reached within his cloak. Watching the boy, Erik carefully withdrew a dark sheath. "I want you to be careful with this, do you understand?" He waited for the boy to nod. "Once you cut the dog free, I'll pull him out. He's too large for you to pull out alone, but you're small enough to move around down there- better than I could."

Gustave nodded, his eyes lingering on the dark sheath of the knife. After a moment, he held out his hand. Erik gently handed it over, his other hand coming over to curl the boy's fingers.

"_Please_, be careful."

"I promise! I'll be really careful."

Offering his hand, he helped the boy down. Gustave gracefully made his way over bits of protruding wood and between a series of metal beams. He watched intensely from above, his right hand absentmindedly stroking the course fur on the dog's head. He heard the boy grunt, and then came the unmistakable sound of cutting.

The dog yelped, whipping its head to look behind it. Erik quickly rested his hand on the dog's scruff, worried it would rear around and lunge at Gustave. There was a phantom pain in a faded scar on his left arm, a distant trauma from his youth.

He knew from experience even a friendly dog would lash out in pain.

"I'm almost done," Gustave called from below, "just a little more." There came a final rip of the knife through the net. "I did it! Mr. E, I did it!"

Erik hoisted the dog up first by its scruff and chest, surprised at how heavy the thing was, despite its emaciated state. The moment its front paws touched solid ground it scampered forward and sped down the mound. Turning back, Erik extended his arm down to Gustave. The boy had to leap up to close the distance, but Erik clasped his wrist tight and pulled up.

Immediately Gustave rushed down the mound, throwing his arms around the dog's large neck. Wordlessly, Erik made his way down to the pair. He stood a slight distance away from them, not wanting to hover too close. He drummed his fingers against the side of his thigh as he pondered what he should say, what would a _normal person_ say?

"Thank you for saving him, Mr. E."

Gustave's small voice made him jump, and he blurted the first thing that came to his mind.

"My name is Erik."

Baffled, Gustave slowly nodded. "Yes, I know that. You told-"

"I meant- you can, if you would like to that is… you can just call me Erik." He paused, his nerves getting the better of his voice. "Not Mr. E, just Erik." Feeling foolish, he sighed and motioned to the street. "We should get back, your Mother is…...well, rather distraught."

"What about-"

"He can come too," Erik said, nodding to the dog. It was all the encouragement Gustave needed, and he immediately leapt up. They walked in silence out of the alleyway, the dog happily trailing behind them. Erik was more than content to spend their entire journey in silence, but after just a few blocks it became apparent they faced another problem.

Gustave paused once again to wait for their canine companion. The dog's pace had steadily slowed over their short walk, and he started to whine.

"What's wrong with him?" Gustave asked, eyes wide.

"I believe his legs are sore." Erik replied. "Or at the very least, painful." He slipped out of his cloak and sighed. "Give me a moment."

Thankfully, the dog didn't protest having the cloak wrapped around him, and he seemed more than happy to let Erik lift him up. As they continued to walk, Erik thought the dog seemed a little _too_ content to be carried.

"Isn't he heavy, Mr. E-_um_, Erik?"

"Yes. He is quite heavy."

"But…. you're going to carry him all the way back, right?"

"Yes."

He went quiet for a moment. He was likely thinking, Erik guessed. He enjoyed the silence while it lasted.

"That's a long way to carry a heavy dog, Erik."

Erik didn't answer, his arms were already feeling the first stirrings of fatigue. He simply nodded, and they carried on their journey home.

* * *

_Erik_

By the time he had assured Christine Gustave was alright, explained how he ended up with a dog in his arms, and eventually eased the tension by suggesting they save the topic of what Gustave had done until tomorrow, he was drained. That wasn't the end of it, though.

First the three set to drawing a bath for the dog, as its wiry coat was caked with grime. He mostly just prepared the water, leaving the scrubbing and soaping to Christine and Gustave. They were perfectly content with their task, and he stepped out just as the two began splashing each other.

He didn't bother to look at the time, it was the middle of the night and he still had to dig through the old cabinet in his office to find whatever he could to help ease the dog's wounds. By the time he came back out of the office with a handful of salves and ointments, Christine and Gustave had relocated to the sitting room.

Erik stopped in the doorway to take in the scene. Gustave sat on the floor with the dog's head on his lap, his hands scratching behind its ears. Christine sat on the edge of settee with her head rested against her hand. She was never one to stay up late, unlike he and Gustave, who seemed to thrive at night.

Setting the supplies down, Erik gently ushered Christine to her room, promising to ensure Gustave went to bed after they were done. She gave Gustave a kiss on the head and Erik a squeeze of her hand before retreating for bed.

He stood in place for bit, staring at the doorway she had just gone through. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Erik pushed a few stray hairs away from his forehead before sitting on the floor beside Gustave.

They didn't speak at first. Erik worked on applying the salve to the raw areas of the dog's leg while Gustave watched.

"I've never had a dog before."

He was surprised by this, enough to make him stop and look up. "Is that so?"

"Yes, Father wouldn't-" Gustave's face went a bit pale. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. "I wasn't allowed to have one, when we lived in Paris. I was always told, '_dogs are too messy, that's how you get mud and vermin in the house'_."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "I'm afraid that's true." He returned his gaze to the dog's back leg. "A dog can get rather filthy. Which means your floors and furniture will in turn be filthy, if you aren't careful."

"You've had a dog before?"

Erik hummed. He mulled over what to tell the boy, _how_ much he should tell him. He worried too much would scare the boy, making him seem even monstrous. He scoffed, and then realized Gustave was looking at him as if the sound was directed at him.

"Her name was Sasha," he explained. "I was young, much younger than you are now. I was…. perhaps four, no…. five, maybe six." He sighed. "I suppose it doesn't matter. I was very young, and I was rather fond of her."

"Something…." Gustave trailed off. Erik kept his eyes averted, terrified of meeting the boy's gaze. "Something bad happened to her…didn't it?" His question lingered in the air for a great pause, until Erik finally drew in a shaky breath.

"Yes, something bad happened to her. Something very bad."

"Is that why you always look so sad? Because something bad happened to your dog?"

Erik actually let out a small laugh. "Is that what you think? I always look sad?" He raised the corner of his mouth upon the boy's guilty face. "I am teasing you, Gustave." He cleared his throat, taking on a more serious tone. "Yes, I suppose in a way…. that may be one of the reasons I often seem sad."

"But there are other reasons, too?" Gustave asked.

"Yes, there are …. other reasons, as well." Erik wrapped the final bandage around the dog's leg. He drummed the fingers of his right hand against the rug and chewed on his inner cheek. "It's difficult for me to talk about- well, about myself. However, if that's what you want me to do, I will try to…. talk about…"

"You don't have to, Erik." The kindness on Gustave's face made his eyes water, and he promptly looked away. "Only if you want to, and maybe not tonight."

"Not tonight." Erik agreed. "I imagine your Mother will be furious with me if I allow you stay up any longer." He reached his arms under the dog and stood, his sore arms protesting at the familiar weight. "Go on, I'll carry him in."

Gustave went ahead of them, stopping every few steps to make sure they were still following. He held the door open for them, and Erik gently set the dog on the bed.

"Just for one night," he said to the dog. "Tomorrow I'll find you a proper bed, for the floor." The dog reached licked his hand. "You should give him a name."

"_Arkansas_!"

Erik nearly tripped back, startled by the boy's sudden enthusiasm. "Arkansas? Arkansas…. you're sure?"

"Yes, Dr. Gangle and Miss Fleck will love it."

"I'm sure they will," Erik mused, giving Arkansas a final pat on the head. Gustave sat at the edge of the bed, his small fingers bouncing against the bedsheets. It was strange to see the boy with so many of the same mannerisms. He had never doubted Gustave _was_ his son, there was no denying the boy shared many of his own features. And yet, the idea of _having_ a son still utterly bewildered him to the point he was convinced the entire thing was a sort of cruel fever dream.

Suddenly there were tiny arms around him. Erik froze, his hands hovering above Gustave's small frame.

"Thank you for helping Arkansas, and for letting him stay. I'm sorry about Sasha."

Erik nodded as he clenched and unclenched his hands, unsure of what to do. He wanted to return the boy's embrace, or perhaps pat his head- _that's what people did, right?_ However, he didn't feel brave enough to do either of those things, and Gustave soon pulled away with a frown.

Who knew a child's frown could make his heart crumble? Immediately he knelt to the boy's level. Hesitantly, he placed his hands on Gustave's shoulders.

"Listen to me. I'm terrible at this, being a father. I know this, and _you_ know this. And for that I apologize. I am sorry, Gustave." Pushing down the lump in his throat, he continued with a softer voice. "I never knew my father. I couldn't tell you his name, or what he looked like. And my mother, she…she was not kind to me. She was a wicked woman, and she did terrible things to me."

Gustave rubbed at his tearful eyes. "I'm sorry," he sniffled.

"No, _no no no_\- you don't need to be sorry, Gustave. Don't apologize. I'm trying to, to help you _understand_ why I am…." he sighed, gesturing to himself, "the way I am. I was petrified I would disappoint you, or hurt you, or terrify you with my ghastly face- I couldn't bear to be near you. I was a coward, and I feared because the only parent I ever had was so viciously cruel to me, I was unfit to be _your_ father."

This time when Gustave threw his arms around his neck, he didn't refrain from embracing the boy back.

"I will try to do better- to _be_ better for you. I swear it."

The boy nodded into Erik's shoulder, his tears seeping through the material of the shirt. Erik didn't mind, and he let Gustave weep into his shoulder until his tears began to slow.

"I love you." His little voice was muffled, but Erik heard it all the same.

His own shoulders began to shake as his heart started to pound, a sort of tranquilizing warmth spread through his body. For the first time in his life, he felt at peace.

"I love you, too."

* * *

**A/N**: That was so stupidly long, I'm sorry! It's nice to finally just, write _something_! But I know I'm super out of practice, so please let me know what you thought and how I can improve! Thank you so much for reading 3


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